Sunday, June 16, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Mark 4:26-34
(Jesus) also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”
He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.
The novelist Reynolds Price once observed that “next to food and drink, our most basic human need is story.” Maybe that’s why streaming services are such big business. Maybe that’s why we all secretly enjoy some juicy gossip. Maybe that’s why some of you like sermons – you hope that there might be a good story in here somewhere; something to make you laugh or think; something you will remember.
So, as not to disappoint you today, here is one of my favorite stories, as told to me by my grandmother when I was a child. She always called it: “The Blue Bird of Happiness.” I can no longer remember all the details or even if she borrowed the whole thing from a story book. But I do remember my grandmother’s vivid description of a totally blue world. The trees were blue, she said, and the grass was blue. The soil was blue and all the flowers were blue. And in this blue world there lived a little blue bird whose entire purpose in life was to sing - in order to chase away those blues. And whenever and wherever the little bird sang, the true colors of the world returned. The bird sang and the trees and grass sparkled in shades of green. The little bird sang and the soil returned to its rich browns and blacks and reds. The flowers popped orange and purple, yellow and pink – and all because the little blue bird sang. And then my grandmother would say: “And we should sing too, whenever we need to chase away the blues.”
There is a lovely truth in that story. But as I got older, I quickly learned that not all stories are so nice, because the fullness of our human experience cannot be told without frightening stories and sad stories and disturbing stories.
Our Lord Jesus was a master storyteller. And lots of folks are surprised when they learn that Jesus, more often than not, told disturbing stories, upsetting stories, unsettling stories. It’s surprising because his stories so often use bucolic images: sheep and flowers and fields and trees. But like all good stories, the stories of Jesus had many layers, many meanings. And some of those meanings were quite countercultural, subversive, even dangerous.
Unlike a fable, a parable does not point to a singular conclusion. It is purposefully open ended and vague, so that we will reflect upon it and draw our own conclusions. And maybe in the process, through being disturbed, we might also be transformed.
In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus told two short parables, and both with an agricultural theme. The best known of the two is the parable of the Mustard Seed. And it goes like this: the Kingdom or Reign or Empire of God is like a mustard seed. It is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it is put into the ground, it becomes the greatest of all the shrubs and puts forth large branches so that the birds of the air can make a nest in its shade.
Now, at first glance, that seems like a perfectly pleasant little story about how a tiny seed becomes a mighty bush, making a home for some sweet little birdies. We might interpret it to mean that even the smallest act of kindness can grow into something life-giving. And that’s true. But it’s also true that parables are open-ended and vague so that we will dig in. And when you dig into this one, you begin to understand why it disturbed people so deeply. It might even disturb us.
But before we get there, we need to unpack what Jesus meant by a phrase he used all the time: the “Kingdom of God.” For lots of folks, the Kingdom of God is mostly a reference to the great beyond, that place called heaven. It’s up there somewhere and we all hope to make it one day.
But it’s important to note that when Jesus uses this phrase, he is not referring to paradise. In fact, he’s not talking about a place at all. Jesus is talking about a state of being. Whenever he uses the phrase “the Kingdom of God” what he really means is any place or any time “where or when God rules.” So, “when God rules” it is like a mustard seed. So, what might that mean?
Well, mustard plants were considered weeds in ancient Palestine. No one wanted them around mostly because they are uncontrollable and disorderly. And the Torah is very specific about not mixing certain kinds of plants together. But apparently, mustard seeds aren’t very religious and don’t obey the Law of God. Instead, these tiny black seeds are wafted about on the slightest breeze and take root in any kind of soil and grow in, under, and around all the other plants. Thus, mustard seeds represent chaos and imperfection and a lack of control. They start small and grow as they will and intrude upon everything else when no one is looking. And that’s what it looks like when God rules. The Kingdom of God is an invasive species: it starts small and grows as it will and intrudes upon our precious order. – Do you seem what I mean about parables being disturbing?
Other people read in this parable the subversion of an economic system. In the Roman Empire, the majority of the wealth was in the hands of a very few. But, as God’s mustard seeds blow around, and the mustard bushes grow, their leafy branches invite the birds of the world to find a ready home. And from those branches, the hungry, beautiful, colorful birds have a bird’s eye view of all the delicious produce of the farm – that they neither planted nor harvested. But it’s theirs, none-the-less, because – and here's the point - it ALL belongs to God anyway, not to Rome, not to us. So, when God rules, everyone has enough. When God rules, we actually take seriously the idea that the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof – making us all tenant farmers of sorts.
Or maybe the mustard seed parable is actually about Jesus. A parishioner once said to me that Jesus told so many parables that he finally became one. I like that. So, Jesus is like a mustard seed. He was just one man, in one place, at one time. His life was short; his ministry even shorter. I’ve been ordained for 33 years this month; Jesus only preached for three years. And then he was executed by that deadly mix of church and state. And the tiny seed of his mortal life was laid in the field of a tomb. But like any other seed, after a period of germination, it broke forth from the ground, alive, yet somehow different. And this tiny seed grew into a giant tree. And in the shade of that tree billions of us birds have found our rest. The death of one man gave life to the whole world. And that is how God rules.
And let’s pause for just a minute to consider the other agricultural tale that Jesus told. The great preacher Barbara Brown Taylor called her sermon on this parable “The Automatic Earth.” And you will see why in a moment.
Jesus said that when God rules, it is like a farmer who goes into the field scattering seed. And farmers, at that time, had no real idea how a seed grew. But grow it did. And grown it does. Year in and year out, it grows. The farmer rises from bed, day after day, in hope, surveying the fields - knowing that one day when he looks, he will see the green sprouts pushing through the good earth. He counts on this automatic action, because he has seen it before.
And so, have we. We have seen the faithfulness of God before. We have seen the amazing grace of God before. And we will see the grace of God again… and again… and again. We just forget sometimes, in our stress and fear, that God’s grace is guaranteed. It is automatic. And it’s everywhere - under our feet and over our heads and at our sides and in the air we breathe. It sprouts, and grows, and flourishes, again and again. And that’s how God rules.
So, which of these interpretations challenged you? Which comforted you? Or did you have another idea altogether?
Tell me about it. Tell me a story. Tell me about a time when God’s grace touched your life. Tell me about how God upset your precious order in order to set you free. Tell me about the fields full of glory and bushes full of birds. Tell me about the faithful abundance of God in a world of scarcity. Tell me how God rules in your life, and maybe your story will plant a seed in me that will grow into something wild and wonderful that looks like the Reign of God. So, please. Tell me a story.
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